Tag: being silly

Guy: ‘C—, you know, there are people over here you could be serving, instead of just hanging out here,’ he says teasingly.

Hannah: ‘Uh, she is absolutely doing her job. She is giving us, the guests, exactly what we want, and, right now, that is her attention.’

Guy: ‘Well, is there anything I can do for you?’

Hannah: ‘That depends. What are you offering?’

Guy: ‘I’m offering whatever you’re thinking. What would you like for me to offer?’

Hannah: ‘…We could discuss it.’

[laughter from both]

………………………………………………….

How’s that for silly flirtatious conversation in the wine garden? It’s amazing how wonderful life seems to go when I just let things be and rest calmly within myself. That was a brief glimpse into the many wonderful conversations that occurred the other day/evening/night in my life, when I was comfortable and at ease with and within myself. I love being me/myself. 🙂

In my twentieth year of life, right at the end of it, I spent some time living and studying in France. My birthday came and went while living there, effectively making my twentieth year of life shorter than any previous year – think birthday to birthday – by a full seven hours. By the end of my twenty-first year, I had already spent several months living in the USA again, thereby making my twenty-first year seven hours longer – birthday to birthday – than the average year so far in my life (and 14 hours longer than my shortest year of life, which had been the year before it).

Last year, I found myself living half of my year (birthday to birthday year) in Japan. Therefore, when my birthday came around in 2017, I completed my shortest year of life, its being a full 15 hours shorter than the usual (and eight hours shorter than my shortest year to that point). Therefore, as I reach my birthday at midnight tonight, living again in the USA, I will be completing the longest year of my life – birthday to birthday, of course – with a full 15 hours more than usual (and 30 hours longer than my shortest year).

Cool, huh?

P.S. Yes, of course I am excluding leap days, because they ruin the fun, and they don’t even make any sense in the first place. A year is all about the Earth’s revolution around our sun, and a leap day is just a way to make up for the fact that it takes 365.25 (I think it’s actually 365.242189 to be exact) days to go ’round our sun, not just 365. So, I’m just counting the approximate .25 with every year, instead of adding a whole extra day every fourth year. Even if I did include leap days, then every leap day would cause the longest year of my life to be that year (and each of those would be equal to one another). However, the shortest years of my life (still talking birthday to birthday) would remain the same, as they did not contain leap days. To anyone with a birthday on February 29th – I mean you no injustice or discredit.

I feel like pieces of my life – almost every day – could be parts of a Sophie Kinsella novel. Perhaps that is how she writes her novels; she combines all the ridiculous bits of her own life, with the plot of a made-up person’s life. Even if she doesn’t do that, I think this is good enough validation for me to do that myself. I mean, let’s be real here: I’m wearing a would-be engagement ring around these days, as though it’s no big deal, and I’m about to start telling people about how amazing it actually is, and how I think it’s a great thing for women to try at some point when they aren’t actually engaged. How is that standard white bread normal? Plus, wouldn’t that be a great part of a book about smart yet silly, somewhat crazy girl in her mid-twenties? Exactly. I need to start writing my own Sophie Kinsella novels. She has inspired me and shown me that my life has just enough ridiculous for such a story.

Okay, let’s accept this little fact before we get into this silly thought I had today: Everyone farts. I think there’s a book on it, even. I once bought a dinosaur book for my nephew that illustrates the potential sounds that various dinosaur farts might have had, and how their poop might have looked (because everyone poops, too, you know). A nurse once talked to a group of us about how something like ten farts a day suggests a healthy body and diet for humans.

Makes you want to start keeping track, doesn’t it? 😛

Now that we have that out of the way, the thought I had today. Have you ever left someone that sad present in an elevator? (Dreadful idea, I know!) The poisonous trap, provided especially for you by a stranger.

I was all alone in the elevator today, just going up one floor (the stairs are inaccessible, unfortunately). I had actually seen only two other people even in the building so far in the day, and no one was around when I got on the elevator. No one is usually around on the floor where I was getting off the elevator. Even still, when a bit of gas presented its desire to escape, I hesitated – I guess it’s just that engrained in me not to let it go in an elevator. Seeing as no one was around, though, I went ahead and let it slide. (I guess that’s literal, too.) It was small, I could tell, and so harmless in almost any setting, anyway.

When the doors opened, and I began to walk out of the elevator, releasing the end of my internal chemistry class experiment, I was presented with a man in the hallway… and he walked directly into the elevator! I think I couldn’t have opened my eyes any wider as I considered the situation while I walked down the hall. I barely even saw the man, because we were walking in opposite directions, and I had to turn the corner almost immediately. But he was there, and he went straight into the elevator.

I just left him a present in the elevator, went through my mind. And I laughed instantly. Naturally…

My only solace was that it was definitely a small fart and he was only going a maximum of one floor… so, there was a chance that he might not even notice it.

But there was also totally a chance that he would notice it and would know exactly what had happened: a friendly stranger had left him a present in the elevator. Face in palms… 😛

So, have you ever done it? This was definitely my first. I think so, anyway.

A sort of short story about a girl’s casual, 30-second train of thought.

……………………………………………..

“…I go on a job interview there, and that’s how we finally meet up, and discover that we really do like one another in a dating capacity. And so, I start working over there, and we start dating. That’s easy enough, you see,” says Eliza.

“Okay…” replies Karen speculatively. “And then?”

“Well, and then we realize that we totally love one another,” continues Eliza, “and we’re ready to get married. But the question is whether we get married here or over there. If we got married there, it would be totally classy and cool, but then all of my family and friends here likely would miss out. But then, I think, what people here do I really care about having at my wedding? Most of them would be invited only so I could show off my amazing husband and wedding to them, anyway. And wouldn’t it be accomplishing the same thing by getting married in Europe instead, where my husband is from? It shows how he’s exotic, and so am I, getting married over there. Plus, then all the ladies could wear their fabulous hats and everything would be so chic and practically straight out of some fashion magazine.
“I would have a dress that is inspired from the princesses’ wedding dresses in London over the years, with a hint of French flare and loads of my own personality, all tied together beautifully and stunningly.”

Karen cuts her off, “You have the dress planned already?”

“Well, I’m not sure about the whole thing exactly, but I know how the sleeves would look, and they’re spectacular and classy. And YES, they do exist, despite all this recent fashion of sleeveless wedding dresses. So not my style.”

Karen shakes her head, and takes a sip of tea as Eliza continues.

“Anyway, so that could be cool. And we’d have a super-fab old Church for the wedding, and that would be amazing and not cliché, because it’s actually just normal in Europe. But then, we’d have to have some kind of something here in the US afterward. I’m not sure what, exactly, but something to celebrate specifically with everyone here who couldn’t make the trip. But nothing lame. Too many people do a lame ‘Oh, we couldn’t invite all of you to the wedding, but we still want to celebrate with you’. Aka ‘Give us presents, even though you weren’t good enough to be invited to the wedding.’ Not to be harsh, but you get the point…”

“Who’s she talking about?” whispers Lorena, who has just returned from flirting at the tea bar.

“The guy from the photo I showed you yesterday,” replies Karen, sighing. Lorena accepts this, and begins to process what Eliza is saying.

“Then we’d continue living over there, and it’d be perfect, because it lines up with my wanting to live over there, and we’d be so close for an easy trip up to visit Christine and her husband whenever we wanted for a long weekend or whatever. Or I could go alone super easily.”

Astounded, Lorena cuts in, “You mean you’ve already decided on wedding plans with this guy?! You haven’t even gone on a date, yet!”

“He hasn’t even asked her out,” chuckles Karen.

Only slightly defensively, Eliza replies cooly, “Well, if we can’t agree on a wedding location and place to live, then it isn’t really worth bothering dating in the first place, now is it? We’d be wasting our time if we knew so soon that it never would work out, yet went forward with it all, anyway.”

“She has a point,” allows Karen, raising her eyebrows.

After a pause, Lorena replies, “True… I still hold that you’re nuts, Eliza.”

“I’ll second that,” throws in Karen.

“Third it!” laughs Eliza. “Oh, I know I’m totally nuts. That’s why it’s so important that a guy and I be compatible through and through before we bother starting anything.”

They erupt in giggles and laughter, enjoying the ridiculousness of the conversation, and knowing how true Eliza’s statement really is.

“Weirdo,” says Lorena, playfully. “Okay, let’s have some lunch. I’m hungry, and now all I can think about is smoked salmon…”

The other two frown questioningly at her.

“What? You were talking about weddings. Weddings always make me think of smoked salmon.”

Today, I sent a message to my best friend that read, “For some reason, I regularly think about messaging you when I go to the bathroom”

Her response was prompt and simple. “Lol,” followed by, “You like me so much better when youre naked”

“Duh,” was my casual response.

You see, the whole thing started back in college. Freshman year, I was Skype-ing with Christine one day, probably early morning. I had gone into the common room to chat with her, but, since we were in an all-girls dormitory, and it was too early for visitors to be around, I wasn’t fully dressed (probably just a t-shirt and underwear). When we started the call, she let me know that a friend of hers was with her, and that it was a guy (because it was already afternoon in Cambridge, England, so it was normal to be hanging out with people already there). So, I had to go put on some more clothing before we turned on the camera. (At least, I think that was the case… she might have just checked to make sure I was properly clothed, because I regularly would be not fully clothed. Either way, the next part did happen.) When I commented about this, the guy friend of hers made a comment about liking someone so much better naked (I forget if it was about Christine liking me, or what, but it was totally silly, and seemed such an odd comment.) We both were lacking in understanding at first, but he explained that there was an actual song (by Ida Maria), and that that was the line the girl used in it. (See, it made sense and wasn’t actually weird at all.)

The chorus goes like this:

But I won’t mind
If you take me home
Come on, take me home

I won’t mind
if you take off all your clothes
Come on, take them off

‘Cause I like you so much better when you’re naked
I like me so much better when you’re naked
I like you so much better when you’re naked
I like me so much better when you’re naked

We found it hilarious. We found the actual song and music video, and fell in a sort of this is silly and utterly ridiculous, but I still love it kind of love with the song.

I shared it with my hallway neighbor, who played guitar, and we tried playing it a bit on the guitar. I eventually played it for Christine one day on Skype. My greatest, proudest achievement with the song, however, was the time I snuck into the bathrooms (they were shared, and had loads of stalls and multiple showers) one day, just after Jessie, the neighbor, had gone in to shower. Once I knew she was actually in the shower, showering, I walked into the showering area (mind you, not into her stall, just in the showering section of the bathroom), and began playing the song on guitar, and singing it to her. I could hear her snorting, gurgling, guffawing laugher emitting from the shower stall as I sang and played. It was spectacular for the both of us. I shared the story with my best friend, too, and she loved it.*

So, the song has always held a special little place in our hearts, minds, and lives, all three of us. Everyone else probably just thinks we’re crazy, whenever they overhear us mentioning or quoting or singing it. 😛

*This reminds me… I sang to a friend of mine in Japan while she showered one night. We were chatting on the phone, just hanging out one night, after we’d both gotten internet, and so didn’t have to hang up after every five minutes anymore, and she really needed to shower, but we weren’t ready to end our conversation/hanging out. So, she set the phone to the side on speakerphone, and I sang to her while she showered. I had been humming and singing quietly already anyway, so what was the difference if I just did it a little louder, right? It was spectacular, of course. Then a night or few later, when I mentioned to another friend that this had happened, he complained that I didn’t sing for him and that that certainly wasn’t fair. And so I sang to him over the phone… and he fell asleep. 😛 Spectacular in a different sort of way, I guess, but still spectacular. 🙂

My mom came home late tonight, and walked into my room with a surprise for me. Bop It Extreme (R) with newly replaced batteries. I asked if she was teasing me, because it was actually just going to make some absurd sound after sitting for over a decade, but she declared that she had found it today and had put in new batteries specifically because she recalled that I had liked the game.

I showed her how I always held it, told her about the sounds for scoring, and convinced her to play the group version with me, passing it back and forth together. We were both laughing like little kids. It was fabulous.

Afterward, we began discussing family activities for our family open house the Saturday before Christmas, while we have family all in town. The main topic of this discussion was cooked decorating. As my mom listed off the number of dog houses, campers, trains, houses, sweaters, and ninjas she had, we couldn’t contain our growing smiles. She ended with, “and a partridge in a pear tree,” and we both laughed while she figured out what she actually had not yet listed (there is no partridge and no pear tree). I said that it sounded more like a “The dog, in the camper, with the nunchucks,” kind of scenario. She argued that the dog goes in the doghouse, though, but then declared that that is why the dog is in the doghouse – because he was the one in the camper with the nunchucks…